


Stay a While With Me

by fauhnas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Clarke, Road Trip, just kidding we all know it's, mentions of past becho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauhnas/pseuds/fauhnas
Summary: Both avoiding problems of their own, Bellamy and Clarke decide to go on a road trip.





	1. Chapter 1

“So how’s the packing going?”

Clarke freezes midway through tinkering with the old jewelry box she had found stashed in her closet, surveying the boxes and piles she’s sure Raven is imagining. Luckily, the mess had yet to spread anywhere outside her bedroom.

“I’ve been busy with work,” she says through the phone, and she can practically hear Raven rolling her eyes.

“You should ask Bellamy to help,” Raven suggests, and Clarke thanks her lucky stars the other girl isn’t there to see her begin picking at her nails. “I’m pretty sure his days off start tomorrow, so he won’t even have a good excuse.”

Clarke would laugh at Raven’s reasoning, but she knows she’s right.

As a firefighter, Bellamy lives at the station four days and then has three days off, making him available as a laborer for whatever projects his friends managed to pull him into helping with.

Not that he would ever say no to any of their requests. Bellamy, though he’ll never admit it, suffers from perpetual boredom when not on shift, and is always more than willing to help his friends. Though ever since he got roped into helping Murphy transport a large phallic statute across town (it’s a long story), he’s been a little more cautious about where he offers assistance.

But Raven’s right. Bellamy would be more than willing to help her pack, if she asked. There’s only one problem.

“Well,” she says, hesitant, “I haven’t actually told him I’m moving yet.”

“What?” Raven asks, though it’s more an exclamation than a question. “You haven’t told Bellamy you’re leaving?”

“I’m going to. Soon.”

“Clarke...”

“I know. I’m going to tell him, I’m just-” she hesitates, looking for the right words- “waiting for the right time.”

“Clarke, you’re leaving in two weeks.”

She snaps the old box shut, and begins to pace across the limited empty space remaining in her bedroom. “That’s plenty of time to tell him, Raven.”

“It might be plenty of time to tell him you’re moving across the country, but it’s not enough notice for inviting him to your goodbye party,” Raven informs her, and a sudden shuffling begins on the other end of the line.

Clarke groans, resisting the urge to give in to the universe and lie down on the floor.

“Raven, I told you I didn’t want one of those,” Clarke sighs, rubbing her hand across her face. It’s going to be hard enough to leave them already. She doesn’t need a party to remind her of what she’ll be missing.

“Too bad, Griffin. You’re getting one, and Bellamy’ll be invited with or without you telling him first.”

Clarke is momentarily shocked out of her pacing. “Raven, if you tell him before I do, I swear to God-“

“I just don’t see why you’re having such a hard time talking to your best friend!”

“You’re my best friend,” Clarke says, deflecting. It’s silent for a moment, and Clarke carefully dumps her jewelry into a separate moving box.

“I know that. But I also know that I’ll always come second to Blake.”

“Raven...” she starts.

“Don’t worry about it, Clarke. It’s the same with Shaw and I.” She has that tone in her voice she only gets when she talks about Shaw, and Clarke can’t help the upturn of her lips.

“Shaw’s your boyfriend, Raven."

“And? Bellamy’s still your person.” The way she says it, so matter-of-fact, almost causes Clarke to pause.

“Maybe,” Clarke allows as she turns, plopping down onto her bed. “But it’s different now, he has a girlfriend.” A tall, beautiful, bartender girlfriend. But that’s beside the point.

A knock loud enough to be heard through the phone sounds on the other end of the line, and rather than responding, Raven lets out an ornery “hmph.”

“And that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the first person I told I was leaving,” Clarke tells her.

“And why that is will forever be beyond me. Look, it’s not like he’ll be mad. It’ll be like when you left for med school- he’ll mope for a while but then everything will be fine, and like you said- he has Echo around to distract him.” Raven pauses, and Clarke can’t help the twinge of regret that lingers after hearing Echo’s name.

When Clarke says nothing, Raven continues, “this is an amazing opportunity, Clarke. Bellamy’s gonna be happy for you.”

She rolls over on the bed, letting her face sink into her pillow, decidedly not telling Raven that this is exactly what she’s afraid will happen. Him being happy about her going away. That may be worse than actually leaving. It would be the final shove closing the door on the place and people she had called home for so long.

“I know.” She muffles out, and Raven chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Okay. Shaw’s here, so I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later. And please let me know when you tell Bellamy so I can invite him to the thing, alright?”

“Alright,” she sighs.

They say their goodbyes, Raven hanging up first, and Clarke forces herself to roll over, sitting up on the bed to survey the piles upon piles of shit sitting on the floor amidst empty boxes.

She takes a deep breath. This will not be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do by a long shot. She survived four years of med school, lived through losing her dad. She’s more than capable of talking to her best friend.

She’s Clarke fucking Griffin. She can do this.

If she goes right now, it’ll be over with in less than an hour. She’ll tell him, and he’ll be happy for her and in two weeks, she’ll leave without ever looking back.

The clock on her bedside table reads 6:45PM in large, glowing green font.

Considering how late it is, she can always just tell him tomorrow.

Going to her desk, she reaches for the stationary containing her to-do list and carefully pens it in.

_Tell Bellamy about move!_

Perfect. She’ll tell tell him first thing in the morning.

—

Three hours later, a knock comes much sooner than the dawn.

She cracks the door for a peek, cautious, and then swings it open completely.

He looks sad, brows pulled together as he stands bathed in the dull yellow porch light.

“Bellamy?” She asks, and then, more gently, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just-“ he runs a hand over the nape of his neck- “can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” She moves out of the door frame, and he squeezes past her, their shoulders softly brushing.

They had known one another a long time. It’s been over six years since they had first knocked heads in Professor Jana’s political science class, and it’s hard to imagine her life without him in it. Even when she left for medical school, she had always imagined coming back, living with him. Or near him- or whatever. They’re just friends.

But things have been different ever since she got back from med school. He’s still her best friend, but they had both changed after four years of only seeing one another during holidays.

She’s been back for six months, sees him at least once a week, but somehow she still misses him more now that he’s standing right in front of her.

It’s for the best, that she’s leaving.

They stand in the entryway, and she watches him watch the ground and fidget with his sleeves. It’s the first time he hasn’t made himself at home in her apartment, and for a white hot moment of sheer panic, she’s sure he knows she’s moving. A thousand ways to apologize flood her mind, along with a million ways she could kill Raven for telling him, as they stand there in the silent.

“Echo and I broke up,” he finally says.

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s been over for a while.” He gives Clarke a long look before adding, “she’s at my place getting her stuff now. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Of everything he could have said to her, this is the last thing she expected. Stepping forward, she places a hand on his arm, not sure if she should hug him. She trails her thumb across his forearm, letting the heat of his skin permeate into her fingers. His presence alone is an instant comfort, and why anyone would ever break up with him is beyond her scope of imagination.

“Bellamy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, it’s been over for a while now,” he says voice rough. He sniffs, and wipes a hand under his eyes. “We were together three years.” It comes out like he doesn’t quite believe it. “Neither of us wanted to be together anymore, but it’s weird. We had this whole life, and now it’s over.”

Though she has a hand on him, he still looks far away, shrouded in circumstance. She wants to do something, to comfort him, to fix it. Now she does wrap her arms around him, burning her face in his shoulder and trying to ignore the strange sense of relief surging through her veins. “You’ll figure it out. You can stay as long as you need to.”

He sighs, resting his head gently on top of hers, and for a moment she wants to forget that’s she’s moving, to forget about the residency at Polis General five thousand miles away. Forget that she ever thought she could leave Bellamy Blake. She can’t go now. Not while he needs her.

She’s there, in him arms, but she wishes she were running into her bedroom and dumping out the boxes she had packed.

Instead, she pulls away and leads him to the couch. They sit pressed together, still as freshly dead corpses, staring at the blank television screen until Bellamy breaks the silence.

“It just feels like everything I knew for certain in my life is falling apart.” He huffs out a dry laugh.

“I know what you mean,” she says, so quietly she’s surprised he hears her, but he reaches over gently, squeezing her hand.

“Hey, I know how stressed you’ve been about starting your residency at Ark Memorial. But you’re gonna do great. And Raven and I’ll be around if you need anything.”

She nods, flushing, and hopes he can’t tell that it’s out of guilt.

Bellamy sinks back into the couch. “Maybe we just need to get out of town, clear our heads,” he says, and she knows he’s not serious, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.

It’s quiet then, only the soft whooshing of the ceiling fan filling the dimly lit apartment.

“We should just go.” She says it without thinking, without realizing the words are slipping out of her mouth. “We should just get out here for a few days. We’ll be back before your shift starts on Tuesday.”

Bellamy leans forward, suddenly returning to life. “Don’t you have work?”

“I’ll call in sick,” she says, and tries not to dwell on why her heart is racing. It’s a horrible idea, really. Just another reason to put off packing and ignore that her life will be completely different in a matter of two weeks. But maybe it's what he needs, to get out of the town where his ex-girlfriend lives. And if they’re stuck in a car together for three days, she’ll have to tell him about the job at Polis General. No space for excuses.

He studies her, chewing a lip. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. It’ll be good, we can both clear our heads.” She pauses, taking him in, hopeful. “My dad always said road trips were perfect for that.”

Bellamy smiles at her softly then. “Well who am I to argue with Jake Griffin?”

—

Late that night, long after Bellamy has returned to his own apartment, Clarke packs a duffel bag rather than boxes.

It’ll be good, to get away from the boxes and the packing and the reminders of starting her life fresh in completely different state.

An unpacked photo of she and Bellamy in their graduation caps smiles down at her from a high shelf, and she can’t help but smile back.

His face had been smoother then, her face a little fuller. Octavia had managed to pull them out of the throngs of congratulatory friends and family members just long enough to snap a photo, Clarke’s hands around him as if she might topple over if she lets go, both smiling ear to ear. Clarke has no doubt many more photos would have been taken if not for Bellamy grunting out, “One’s enough, O,” before turning back into the crowd.

From across the room Raven and Harper, who had somehow managed to corral Murphy as well as both Jasper and Monty, waved them over. They clasped hands before plunging into the crowd as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She’s not sure if it was the euphoric high of graduating and the lack of sleep from finals week hitting her at once, or the uncomplicated heat of his hand in hers that made her freeze. He turned to face her, the crowd, angry at the sudden stop in traffic, shoving past them.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked her.

“I just can’t believe it’s over.”

“Yep. It’s too late to find new friends now. You’re stuck with me.” When her expression didn’t change, he sobered. “I can’t believe it’s over, either.”

She put her arms around him, then. Right in the middle of the throngs of people trying to get by. In that moment, the future didn’t seem as scary, as uncertain. Bellamy was a constant in her life, and leaving college wasn’t going to change that.

“C’mon. They’re waiting for us,” she said as she pulled away.

Neither of them had any idea how much things would change, or how much they would stay the same.

She shakes her head and continues packing. She hadn’t been wrong, considering Bellamy a constant in her life. They were still best friends, through the years and despite the miles. But things had been different since she got back from school. She still misses him like she did when she was away, a dull, ever present ache in her chest for a time when he didn’t have a girlfriend, or a whole life she wasn’t considered a part of.

This road trip is just what they need. No responsibilities, just them, the road and everything she had been missing for so long.

She finishes folding the last of her clothes, tucking them neatly into her bag. Surveying the room for forgotten items one last time, her eyes land on her to-do list, the sharp lettering stabbing through the heart of her excitement. _Tell Bellamy about move!_

This hasn’t changed anything, she reminds herself. She’s still leaving. She can’t let herself forget that.

The stationary feels heavy in her hands as she picks it up, shoving it with the rest of her things into the duffel.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy tosses his bag into the back seat of the truck at eight the next morning and climbs into the passenger seat.  
  
“Your dad’s truck. Interesting choice,” he says, slamming the door behind him.    
  
“Mom let me borrow it. Seemed appropriate.” She doesn’t mention that she had begged to take it out one last time after Abby had informed her the old hunk of metal wouldn’t survive a trip across the country. She drives the thought from her mind.  
  
“So, how was it when you got back?” She asks instead, turning down the volume of the radio.  
  
He tugs deftly at his seat belt, clicks it into place. “Fine. She was gone when I got back.” The crease raising Octavia put between his brows deepens.  “It was weird to be alone.”  
  
“Well prepare to not be alone for the next two days.” She shifts into drive, and they’re off. The apartment building shrinks in her rear view mirror, and something like hope creeps into her chest.  
  
Maybe it’ll be easier to admit she’s leaving when what she’s missing out on isn’t right under her nose. All the game nights with their friends in Bellamy’s tiny shoebox apartment, dining early on half-price taco night at Taco Joe’s. If she’s not there, maybe it’ll be easier to say goodbye.  
  
Neither of them had spoken since they started driving, and it’s silent in the cab of the truck, the only sound the low grumble of the old engine. Bellamy’s eyes turn to the window as their city blurs past. The grey and brown hues of buildings that they’ll always know.

 

He’s probably thinking about her, Echo. Who he loved. And used to live with. And who he probably wouldn’t want to move across the country, even though they had broken up. But that’s beside the point.  
  
They pass out of the city limits and into the next.  
  
It’s quiet. Bellamy thumbs at his phone and finally breaks the silence. “I, uh, made us a playlist for the drive.” He plugs his phone into the cassette-tape aux cord without even the thought of asking, like it belongs to him, too. “And before you ask- yes I included some of your weird indie music.”  
  
“I don’t know why you still insist on calling it my weird indie music when you listen to it too.”  
  
“You know what they say about old habits.”  
  
“Okay, John McClane,” she says, rolling her eyes, and he half-smiles at the reference.  
  
It’s silent for a beat, and he starts the playlist, the tapping of a drum filling the cab. She should tell him. She should just tell him right now, so it can be over with.  

But he asks where they’re going, and so she doesn’t.    
  
“Wherever the car takes us,” she replies, and she can’t even bring herself to glance at him.    
  
“Never thought I’d see the day Clarke Griffin didn’t have a plan.”    
  
She knows he’s trying to poke fun at her, but she’s feeling too sentimental to really take the bait. Still, she rolls her eyes for his benefit, lets a smile creep across her lips,

“It’ll be like old times, when all of us would drive around just because we could.”  
  
“You mean when Murphy would offer to drive and then somehow end up dead asleep in the back with everyone else?” He stretches his arms out, then folds them behind his head.  
  
“Hey, I would stay up with you,” she says, indignant.  
  
“But somehow I always ended up being the driver.”    
  
“You always _wanted_ to be the driver.” She glances over at him, and his eyes find hers, surprisingly soft.  
  
“I miss those days,” he tells her, “I’m glad we’re doing this.”  
  
The music fades out, and she’s going to tell him, she really is. But the track he’s playing changes, and his smile widens as he reaches out, turning up the volume.  
  
“I love this song,” he tells her, and Clarke distinctly remembers the first time she made him listen to it. She can’t ruin this moment, she just can’t, and so she turns the volume up, letting the music wash everything else away.  
  
—  
  
And she still doesn’t- not as they reminisce through the back roads, not as Bellamy insists on taking a turn driving, Clarke watching as his tanned hands wrap around the steering wheel, prominent veins dancing across his tendons. He has freckles on his hands that she had never noticed before, so few and far between that she could count them, if she were close enough. But that’s beside the point.  
  
The sun begins to set and they’re remembering how they imagined their lives turning out, but she still can’t tell him or his beautiful hands that she’s leaving. It’s glass she’s not quite ready to break.  
  
She holds it in, and the sun completes its descent, the stars beginning to sprinkle the night sky like the first dusting of snow in the winter.  
  
The music changes again.

“You still listen to them?” She asks, the soft strumming of guitar strings floating into the cab.  
  
“They used to be your favorite.”  
  
She pauses, and the voice voice coming from the speakers tells her that a year from now, we’ll all be gone. “That was a long time ago,” she tells him.    
  
“How could I ever forget he heart and the head?”

It’s an old joke, from so long ago she’s surprised she hasn’t forgotten. You _know_ it’s The Head and The Heart, she would tell him. He would only shrug, a laugh tugging at his mouth. She’s about to retort, just how she used to, ready to see the same teasing expression on his face, hear him repeat the words back to her. But she glances over at him and it’s already passed, his eyes fixed on the sky, and instead he says,  
  
“-wait a second, did you see that?” He glances over at her, and she turns her eyes quickly back to the road.  
  
“What do you mean?” She surveys the skyline, the trees, the road, but sees nothing.  
  
“There it is again, look.” This time he points, up to the stars, and she wants to tell him to keep his hands on the wheel, but her breath escapes her body.  
  
“Oh my god. It’s a meteor shower.”  
  
“I have a blanket we can put in the bed of the truck. Let’s stop and watch.”  
  
He pulls over almost immediately, turning down a small gravel road. There’s a house in the distance. The green of the fields around them is barley visible in the darkness. He takes the keys out of the ignition. She grabs his arm.     
  
“Bellamy, we can’t just park here, it’s someone’s property.”  
  
He opens the door, anyway. “These properties are huge- no one will ever notice we were here.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” she tells him.  
  
“It’s better here than on the side of the road,” he rolls his head to look at her, the shag of his hair falling into his warm brown eyes.  In the dim light she can barely make out his freckles.  
  
“Fine,” she concedes, “but we’re only staying an hour. Tops.”  


The meteors flash across the sky, spectacularly clear with the little light pollution present on the back roads. They're wrapped in blankets in the bed of the truck, the cold air nipping their noses. Sitting here with him reminds her of breathing. It’s natural. Done completely without thinking. It’s hard to remember a time when they hadn’t been this way, comfortable in the silence, pressed shoulder to shoulder.

It’s easy here, out in the open, without the echoing of thoughts trapped in an enclosed space. The darkness of the sky melds into the earth in this place, the smell of grass and Bellamy surrounding her, keeping her safe. When she remembers that she’s leaving, the easiness fades and the pain comes. The hot skin of his arm pressed against hers stings like it had in high school when she burned her hand on a hot plate. It had taken years for the scar to fade.

The bright flashes continue to cross the sky, but she’s looking down, watching his fingers play with the frayed edges of the blanket. Another flash draws her eye back to the stars.        
  
“Should we make a wish?” she asks. He studies the sky for a long moment before answering.

“I wouldn’t know what to wish for,” he looks over at her, and they’re so close she can feel his hair brush against her forehead.  “What about you?”  


She could wish that she didn’t have to tell him she was leaving. Wish that she had never met him. Wish that Polis General would call in the morning, revoking the job offer. Whish that she would never have to say goodbye, at all. She wouldn’t even know where to begin, really.

“Me either,” she says.  
  
It reminds her of another time, another place, where she had known. It had been a night much like this one, the clarity of the stars dominating the night sky.

 

She had been in the passengers seat of Bellamy’s hand-me-down hatchback, newly empty takeout containers shoved underneath her feet. The only light came from the the soft glow of the dashboard clock and their headlights, the road and the sky melted together outside of the beams, wiping everything outside of the car from existence except the stars.  Their friends slept soundly in the back seat. 

“I wish my dad could meet you guys,” she told him.   

“Yeah?”  
  
The tires on the road and the quiet hum of the engine were the only sounds between them, melting into a silent lullaby.  
  
His presence was so intense, it was as if there weren’t another soul for thousands of miles. They didn’t touch, his hands on the wheel, hers in her lap; but he was closer than she had ever felt to someone, his warmth holding her afloat in the deep blue of melancholy.  
  
“Yeah. He would have loved you guys.” she smiled,  “even Murphy.”  
  
He nodded in slow understanding, and she knew his thoughts had turned to his mom, though he never mentioned her.  
  
“I wish I could have met him, too.”

-  
  
A light flashes toward the bed of the truck, so bright she almost convinced a meteor has fallen to earth right in front of them. Then the light begins to bounce, undulating with the unevenness of the field, and the growl of an engine getting closer by the second.  
  
“Oh my god, is that-?”  
  
“Whoever owns this place. It’s time to go.” Bellamy is up before he finishes speaking, jumping lithely out of the truck bed. The jump isn’t as easy for Clarke, and she uses the side of the bed to steady herself as she climbs out. A warm hand on her back steadies her as she throws one leg over, and then another. Then she’s jumping down, caught by Bellamy’s chest as she tumbles toward him.  
  
She stops herself with hands on his chest and looks up at him, ready to thank him for his help. Their faces are much closer than she anticipates. This shouldn’t make her freeze. It’s only Bellamy. And his lips. Which are mere inches from her own. But that’s beside the point.  
  
It’s too dark to read his expression, but she can feel his breath catch in his throat through her hands on his chest. Then he’s squinting, a bright light illuminating his face.  
  
That both turn, and he pushes her toward the door.  
  
The other truck is close enough that she can make out a voice yelling at them to get the fuck off his property before he calls the cops. They dive inside the cab and slam the door shut behind them.  


She knows her dad must be watching out for them, because the engine starts right away, roaring angrily as she urges the truck to accelerate.  
  
When they finally reach the main road, Clarke doesn’t let up until there’s no sign of headlights behind them.  
  
It’s quiet, until-  
  
“You were right.” His words break the strange tension that had fallen over them and, suddenly, she’s laughing.  
  
The sound bursts through her lips, filling the cab. Bellamy joins her, and the deep warm sound of it sinks into her bones. She thinks she might be able to listen to that sound forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think!


End file.
